Logan's Calling Read online

  He took the stairs two at a time and picked up the package from the living room. This shouldn't take too long. Just a quick stealth mission to put this in the mailbox by her door then back onto his own property and a few hours by the pool reading Mack Bolan novels and drinking a six pack or two. Today was a good day to get drunk.

  He opened the door and stepped out onto the porch and froze.

  Her silver Buick was in her driveway.

  She was home already.

  Fuck.

  Logan stepped back into the house and closed the door. His heart hammered in his chest and he felt queasy. He needed to calm down. Just because she was home didn't mean he had to go over there and talk to her. Hell, he could wait until she went to work tomorrow morning if he had to.

  No...no he couldn't. What if she was expecting the delivery today and she called the delivery company to find out where it was? What if they told her that her neighbor had signed for it? She would come around here. He had no choice. He was trapped.

  He felt like just tossing the damn thing over the eight foot high fence that separated their back yards. Yeah, right...she'd have no doubt who had done that and would probably come over to ask him why he was throwing her mail into her yard.

  The cosmic joke was on him and the joke was that he had brought this upon himself. Was he subconsciously trying to sabotage himself, to force his own hand? No, he'd have to be seven kinds of crazy to do that to himself.

  Yet here he was.

  'Fuck,' he muttered, pacing back into the living room and running his hand through his hair. This was not good. Not good at all. He strode back to the door, determined to just go next door and get this over with before stopping himself, hand on the door handle, and turning back.

  He sat down again, turning the parcel over and over in his hands. How could one small package be causing him so much distress? He never used to be like this and he hated what he had become more keenly than ever.

  Maybe if he waited until dark. He could sneak over there and leave it by her front door. A knock to get her attention and he could be back safe in here before she opened the door and found the parcel.

  Was this what he had been reduced to? Sneaking around in the dark to deliver a package to his neighbor? He never left these four walls or his yard anymore, shopping online and having everything delivered. He even paid a young man from down the street to mow the front lawn, unwilling to go out there himself and face the occupants of Arroyo Street.

  Was that it, though? Was it his general agoraphobia that kept him from taking the parcel around to Sarah's house or was it the fact that it was Sarah he would have to face? What if this package was for Fred Jenkins, Logan's neighbor on the other side, or for the MacDonald family across the street? He had to admit that he would steel himself and deliver the package. He would feel damned uncomfortable doing it but he would go next door or across the street and explain that he had taken the delivery and he would pass the package to its rightful owner and do his duty.

  The problem was that the rightful owner of this package was Sarah Cooper.

  And he had more feelings for that woman than he dared think about.

  Sure they were only sexual feelings, what more could they be? Noting more than sexual desire but it still paralyzed him whenever he thought about going around there and meeting her.

  Logan, get a hold of yourself. You did your duty in Afghanistan and even when you were shit scared, you didn't let that stop you. That was life and death, this is just the woman next door.

  Before he could think any further on it, he was out of the door and striding across his lawn then past her silver Buick to her porch steps. He took them two at a time and knocked rapidly on the front door. His hands were shaking. If his army buddies could see him now, standing frightened on this woman's porch, they would laugh their asses off.

  Movement from inside the house, as if Sarah was in the kitchen cooking and set a plate down before coming to the front door. Her heels clicked off the wooden floor as she approached. He could see her through the frosted glass set into the door but the thick glass distorted her image into something like a ghost, getting larger as it came nearer. She turned the bolt on the door and it made a heavy click.

  Logan angled his body so she would see his right side. He suddenly wished he'd worn a hooded sweatshirt and pulled the hood up. It was a trick he used to pull a lot when he still did his own grocery shopping. And it wouldn't seem so strange to Sarah; it was damn hot out here and he might be protecting his skin from the UV rays. Too late for that now. The door was opening.

  She peered cautiously at him as the door opened and Logan immediately felt shame for every dirty thought he had ever had about her. She wasn't some picture in a magazine for him to leer at while he pleasured himself, she was a real woman standing in front of him. She looked beautiful close up. Her blue eyes were large and there was a softness in them as if she were frightened of something or she'd been hurt in the past. Her flawless skin had freckled slightly at the bridge of her nose and that was a cute detail Logan had never noticed about her through the window. She wore gray slacks and a white blouse and Logan wondered guiltily if she was wearing white lingerie beneath it. The blouse was open at the top, displaying a silver locket in the shape of a heart with filigree designs at Sarah's throat.Her feet were bare as if she had come home and kicked her shoes off the moment she got through the door. She probably unbuttoned her blouse at the same time, glad to be back in the rural community of Hope and away from the city.

  The cautious look on her face vanished and she smiled as if she recognized him. 'Logan,' she said. Her pupils dilated and she took a rapid intake of breath after saying his name.

  That made him forget the speech he had prepared while waiting for her to answer the door, the speech where he explained about the package and why he had it. 'You know who I am?' He realized he had moved his face and was looking at her dead on but her eyes never wavered from his.

  'Of course, you're my neighbor.'

  'We've never met.' Then he realized why she knew about him. The other residents on the street probably told her about the scarred war vet living next door. His heart sank.

  'I saw you on the day I moved here. And I've seen you in your yard from my upstairs window sometimes.'

  'Oh...of course.' If he could see her from his window, she could see him from hers. He had never felt her watching him while he was out by the pool reading and his senses usually alerted him to things like that. He really was losing it if his neighbor could spy on him and he was unaware of it. The only person who has been spying is you, Logan, and you know it. His gut twisted at that thought.

  She looked expectantly at him, her eyes never going to the scars on his face. 'Is this just a neighborly visit or can I help you with something?' Her smile was so pretty.

  He had almost forgotten about the package. He held it up and her eyes flickered to it. Her face seemed to change when she saw it and the softness in her eyes seemed to become fear as if she was dreading what was inside that neat little parcel.

  'They delivered this earlier today. It's for you.' He handed her the package.

  She took it and looked down at it and swallowed. 'Thanks.'

  'Is everything OK?' Now his senses were kicking in. Something was wrong here.

  She looked up and he saw tears welling in her eyes. She tried to blink them away but they escaped and streamed down her cheeks. 'Oh God,' she whispered, collapsing against the wall and leaning heavily on it.

  Logan's instincts pushed him through the doorway and before he even knew what he was doing, he had her in his arms and she was crying against his chest. 'Please close the door,' she whispered through the tears, 'I don't want the whole street to see me like this.'

  He reached back and closed the front door. Sarah grabbed handfuls of his Harley Davison t-shirt and wept. The package was on the floor and Logan couldn't remember when she had dropped it. The feel of her against him and the peachy smell of her shampoo mixed with the subtl
e fragrance of her perfume were taking all his concentration. He had his arms around her, protecting her from this unseen thing that had made her cry, and he felt like crying himself because this was the most human contact he had experienced in a long long time. He had missed this, the touch of another person and the sense that he was giving them something even if it was just comforting them from something he knew nothing about. He closed his eyes and held her close and tried to store every detail of this moment in his memory like a hoarder who had stumbled upon the most valuable treasure. The weight of her against him as she trusted him to hold her up, the feel of her face buried in his chest and her warm tears soaking through his t-shirt. The sound of her crying as she let him experience her in this vulnerable moment.

  She pulled away from him, wiping her eyes. 'I'm sorry, you must think I'm crazy. Way to make a first impression on my neighbor.'

  'No, not at all.' He already missed the feel of her, the need to be comforted that she had shown him. 'I'm sorry that this,' he scooped up the package from the floor, 'upset you so much. If I'd known, I would have got my gun and run the delivery boy off my porch and told him never to come back.'

  She smiled but she didn't take the package from him. 'Would you like a drink, Logan? I have iced tea or soda or something stronger.'

  'Iced tea would be fine.'

  She turned and walked down the hallway to the kitchen at the back of the house and Logan followed. Her house was laid out exactly the same as his but the decor was entirely different. Where he had bare walls she had framed photographs of people he assumed were her family. There were photos of Sarah and a younger girl hr presumed to be her sister and their parents at a lake, at the Grand Canyon, in a house that wasn't this one and was probably the place she grew up.

  The kitchen was much the same as his except that Sarah had painted her walls light green and hung cute rustic pictures of pigs and chickens. On the window sill sat a row of potted cacti. She also had a large wooden table to eat at where Logan ate all his food in front of the TV. Even though he sometimes liked to cook to while away the hours, his kitchen was bare except for a simple clock hanging on one wall.

  A chopping board sat on the counter by the sink and arranged around it sat peppers, mushrooms and onions. The smells made Logan's mouth water. He hadn't eaten all day.

  'I was just prepping an omelette for later,' Sarah said. She fished in the refrigerator and came out with iced tea, pouring a glass for herself and Logan.

  'Shall I just leave this on here?' he asked, setting the parcel on the kitchen table.

  She looked at it and took a deep breath as if psyching herself up for something. 'Would you do me a really big favor?'

  'Sure, what is it?'

  'Would you open that for me?'

  He shrugged. 'Okay.' He picked up the package again. 'It's from a J Frazier at Lakeside Road...'

  'I know who it's from.' She stood against the counter, both hands gripping the edge tightly as if bracing herself for something.

  Logan tore at the brown paper wrapping and let the ripped paper fall to the table. Inside was a black box. 'You want me to open this?'

  She nodded slowly, her beautiful blue eyes wide.

  Logan lifted the top half of the box away and frowned. Inside was a locket exactly the same as the one dangling from Sarah's neck. A silver filigree heart on a long silver chain. He lifted it to show her but as soon as she saw it she let out a heartfelt sob and leaned against the counter as if she were going to collapse.

  Logan threw the locket onto the table and went to Sarah, holding her again.

  And this time as she pressed her face against his chest and fisted handfuls of his t-shirt desperately, she sobbed, 'My sister. They have my sister.'

  CHAPTER THREE

  Help

  'Oh God, I'm so sorry, Logan,' she said when the tears had subsided, 'you don't need to be involved in this.' She had been crying for thirty minutes and after saying, 'They have my sister,' she had simply sobbed against Logan's chest saying nothing more. He had let her cry and had simply held her, unquestioning and supportive while she let out her grief. He had no idea what was going on except that she was hurting and he was here to hold her. He wasn't going to push her to tell him what she meant about her sister or why the locket had upset her so much and he knew that she would tell him in her own time.

  'Do you want to talk about it?' he offered.

  She wiped the tears from her face and nodded. 'Sure but I could use a stiffer drink than iced tea if I'm going to talk about this. How about you?'

  He nodded. 'I'll take a Jack on the rocks if you have it.'

  'Let's go sit in the living room.' She led him into her living room which had much more plush furnishings than his own. Two sofas and a leather armchair in front of a glass coffee table, bookshelves lining one wall with a selection of Romance novels along with ornaments and more family pictures. Her TV was in the same spot as Logan's although she didn't have a stack of DVDs alongside it. On the wall where Logan had his New Orleans paintings, Sarah had blown up black and white photos of the forests and lakes in Algonquin Park.

  'Very nice,' he said, admiring the photography.

  'I took them myself.'

  One picture showed a large wolf padding out of the pines toward the edge of a lake. It was a night shot, a silvery half moon illuminating the scene, and Logan wondered how dedicated someone would have to be to go into the woods at night to snap a photo like that. 'Wow, a wolf. I'm impressed.'

  'That's a Canis Lycaon, an Eastern Canadian Wolf. The camera is the tool of my trade so I'm used to waiting patiently for just the right shot.' She opened a dark wood cabinet, revealing a mini bar inside and poured two shot glasses of Jack. 'I'll go get the ice. Back in a second.'

  As she left the room, Logan asked, 'Are you a professional photographer?'

  'No,' she shouted back from the kitchen, 'I'm a private detective.'

  He didn't know how to answer that so he stood looking at the wolf photo in silence, letting this information sink in. He had been totally wrong about her, assuming she worked in an office job for some big company. She was a private eye? He never would have guessed that in a million years. The soft vulnerability he sensed around her didn't lend itself to a hard profession like that.

  She returned and handed him a glass, the ice chinking as it floated in the dark amber liquid. Sarah took a seat on the sofa and placed the box with the locket inside on the glass table. Logan took the armchair. He wanted to sit next to her but he had made more progress with her than he had with another human being in the past few years and he didn't want to ruin it by going too fast too soon. Sarah probably didn't even realize what a big thing this was for him, to be here outside of his own house and talking with another person. He didn't even feel uncomfortable and she hadn't mentioned his scars even once or offered him that pity stare he couldn't stand.

  'A private detective,' Logan said, 'I never would have guessed.'

  'I kind of fell into it, really. You won't have heard of the Cooper Detective Agency.'

  'Here in Hope?'

  She shook her head. 'It's in Toronto. My dad owns the business. He was a cop but he had to retire early after he fell off a building while he was chasing a drug dealer. His leg got busted up and he had to walk with a stick ever since. He started the detective agency when I was still in high school and I worked there after classes and on weekends.'

  'That sounds very Veronica Mars.'

  She smiled. 'It was. I got a feel for the cases and I started helping him more and more. I became a full detective in the firm, handling the cases my dad couldn't deal with because of his injury. When my younger sister Amy graduated, she came to work for us too.'

  Logan nodded. Not only was Sarah gorgeous, she was smart too. It made him wish even more that he was the person he used to be. If he was the old Logan - strong, alert, unscarred - he might be the type of man a woman like Sarah Cooper would want in her bed at night. She was a perfect match for the man he once was, the
Logan who served in Afghanistan as an Army Ranger sniper and seemed fearless in the face of danger. Now he was just a pale shadow of that man. Living in a different country, a different life.

  'A couple of years ago, Amy had a relationship with a man named Jensen Frazier. He owned a rival detective firm called JF Investigations. My dad didn't like him at all and at first I thought that was because of the business competition thing but whenI met Jensen I took a dislike to him too. I couldn't put my finger on what it was but I really couldn't stand to be around the guy.

  'Amy was smitten. Frazier was her first serious boyfriend and she obviously couldn't detect the same thing Dad and I felt about him.'

  Logan watched Sarah closely as she spoke. She was so fucking gorgeous. The familiar lust for her knotted his gut like a clenched fist. He took a sip of Jack to distract himself but the liquor burned at his throat, making him feel like his insides were on fire and the only way he could douse the flames was to move over to the sofa, take Sarah in his arms and lay her down on her back while he clambered on top of her. Fucking hell, stop thinking these thoughts. I can't. No one has ever affected me in the way Sarah does.

  He felt hot, giddy.

  'Are you okay, Logan?'

  He closed his eyes and nodded. 'Just hot is all.' He needed to get back home, to safety. But even if he made a move for the front door right now, he doubted his legs would carry him all the way before giving up and making him collapse to the floor. He couldn't tear himself away from Sarah. He let out a long exhale and held the cool shot glass to his forehead, rolling it over his flesh and letting the tiny beads of condensation cool him a little.

  'It is hot,' Sarah said, getting up. 'I'll adjust the AC.' She breezed past him and he felt like his sense were heightened for a moment. The swish of her slacks sounded incredibly loud in his ears and the smell of her peach shampoo and perfume sent the receptors in his nose into overdrive. Beneath those fragrances he could detect something else, something subtle but undeniably present. The scent of arousal. Sarah's arousal. It hit his nose like a ten ton truck and drove him wild with longing.